Submissions by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
💚
Home comforts.
In Harrogate sometimes
the air is so thick
I could bleed smog through my pores
and the tune of each little drummer boy
echoes in my ears and up my nose.
On the drive back to Ipswich
by train or car
I allow the stench of
needed freshener
to exfoliate my skin
and the grass in all it's green
to swallow my eyes whole.
A yawn. Nothing more. I lose the keys to a hallway drawer
and surrender to familiar oxygen.
the air is so thick
I could bleed smog through my pores
and the tune of each little drummer boy
echoes in my ears and up my nose.
On the drive back to Ipswich
by train or car
I allow the stench of
needed freshener
to exfoliate my skin
and the grass in all it's green
to swallow my eyes whole.
A yawn. Nothing more. I lose the keys to a hallway drawer
and surrender to familiar oxygen.
681 reads
0 Comments
Documents
Beside the foxglove,
planted loudly to the drum
of my Nan's eventual euthanasia,
I smoke a King
behind a wall of potato chips and chocolate
and ash.
The tattoo on my right foot
is truly red under the white light
that overcasts the sky,
bland strands of puff to add to.
The wind blows untied pieces of hair
across my face
and it annoys my nose.
Poems and tokes to finish.
planted loudly to the drum
of my Nan's eventual euthanasia,
I smoke a King
behind a wall of potato chips and chocolate
and ash.
The tattoo on my right foot
is truly red under the white light
that overcasts the sky,
bland strands of puff to add to.
The wind blows untied pieces of hair
across my face
and it annoys my nose.
Poems and tokes to finish.
746 reads
5 Comments
Born like it.
On the Telly-box
it's an f-and-blinder, in a bowler hat promoting
an O.D. of sorts.
A lady on a beach,
tanned, thin, relaxed,
uses sun lotion to tap her son's nose
and laugh with his Daddy about it.
I should be in the shower, drying my hair
and painting my toes
but I'm tired and I'm in bed.
I use a phone to type these uninteresting facts
about my last five minutes
because I'm half asleep and half awake
and it's too bright
to sleep
with the curtains open.
it's an f-and-blinder, in a bowler hat promoting
an O.D. of sorts.
A lady on a beach,
tanned, thin, relaxed,
uses sun lotion to tap her son's nose
and laugh with his Daddy about it.
I should be in the shower, drying my hair
and painting my toes
but I'm tired and I'm in bed.
I use a phone to type these uninteresting facts
about my last five minutes
because I'm half asleep and half awake
and it's too bright
to sleep
with the curtains open.
786 reads
8 Comments
All in (Jest)
Bones and skinny ridges
traced by bitten fingertips
on the greenest day
when the sky painter
made it a terrific blue.
Bluest she'd seen, in a time.
All tears and circles
of bleached hair down the drain
where he cut away until she was a bald
doll and he kissed her -
tendering the issues.
Break the bridges,
fall asleep on life,
on an ash-stained bare mattress
as she traced
his bones and skinny ridges
contemplating the ailments.
traced by bitten fingertips
on the greenest day
when the sky painter
made it a terrific blue.
Bluest she'd seen, in a time.
All tears and circles
of bleached hair down the drain
where he cut away until she was a bald
doll and he kissed her -
tendering the issues.
Break the bridges,
fall asleep on life,
on an ash-stained bare mattress
as she traced
his bones and skinny ridges
contemplating the ailments.
728 reads
3 Comments
War vs. UFO
On the Dome of Rock
where stones have crumbled
after
bullet spray
and my blood
and your gut
make the shrine ashamed.
With seeking hands I come,
desperate eyes and straggled breath
and you stare
broken by war, taken in the Summer when embers were left of our
home.
The table,
the chairs,
Bingo who squealed as they cut him.
All man is good.
'An Israeli-Palestinian conflict.'
Conflict? As if another spat on a Western cul-de-sac.
Death stinks the streets
for our kingdom
where tales are told...
where stones have crumbled
after
bullet spray
and my blood
and your gut
make the shrine ashamed.
With seeking hands I come,
desperate eyes and straggled breath
and you stare
broken by war, taken in the Summer when embers were left of our
home.
The table,
the chairs,
Bingo who squealed as they cut him.
All man is good.
'An Israeli-Palestinian conflict.'
Conflict? As if another spat on a Western cul-de-sac.
Death stinks the streets
for our kingdom
where tales are told...
793 reads
2 Comments
waiting rooms
In all the possible
legitimate lengths of days
and ways I could choose to spend them
the last thing on my mind, and it's no surprise,
was sitting in the SHC (sexual health clinic).
And while we're talking of it
the last possible reason for liasing
with the rest of mankind
is to be felt up by a face of thunder.
Brunette's finger inside my vagina, wiggling, while asking about my week
and telling me that if there's anything to worry about
I'll know in ten days.
Of course, though, we've had dear Queenie's jubilee so it could be
a little...
legitimate lengths of days
and ways I could choose to spend them
the last thing on my mind, and it's no surprise,
was sitting in the SHC (sexual health clinic).
And while we're talking of it
the last possible reason for liasing
with the rest of mankind
is to be felt up by a face of thunder.
Brunette's finger inside my vagina, wiggling, while asking about my week
and telling me that if there's anything to worry about
I'll know in ten days.
Of course, though, we've had dear Queenie's jubilee so it could be
a little...
806 reads
1 Comment
Water
Now,
when the ground is soggy
post-sheet rain,
I go outside
bare foot
until I am the puddle
in Winter's grasp.
Nothing special,
no adverse feeling,
no toying thoughts trembling,
taking wings and living loose
on the rusted tree.
I am nothing
without an umbrella
or shoes
at 4am,
between backgammon games,
for a puff.
when the ground is soggy
post-sheet rain,
I go outside
bare foot
until I am the puddle
in Winter's grasp.
Nothing special,
no adverse feeling,
no toying thoughts trembling,
taking wings and living loose
on the rusted tree.
I am nothing
without an umbrella
or shoes
at 4am,
between backgammon games,
for a puff.
651 reads
1 Comment
The Hen
I want to write.
I want to write to you, my pretty lady
and you to write back.
Let me know what to do.
Why did you leave?
We just weren't ready.
Who told you you could?
Who told you to wither and starve and lock like a dead weight?
Who told you you could?
Today I cried,
today and yesterday and days before that.
The human race has gone a squiff, my pretty lady.
It's left me like an antique and I don't
think I like modern art.
What I'd give for one of your cups of tea
at the breakfast bar
after...
I want to write to you, my pretty lady
and you to write back.
Let me know what to do.
Why did you leave?
We just weren't ready.
Who told you you could?
Who told you to wither and starve and lock like a dead weight?
Who told you you could?
Today I cried,
today and yesterday and days before that.
The human race has gone a squiff, my pretty lady.
It's left me like an antique and I don't
think I like modern art.
What I'd give for one of your cups of tea
at the breakfast bar
after...
733 reads
2 Comments
Some lies
After the faces have left the building
and the smoke is smoked
and the ducts are dry
I sit
on the edge of foam
wondering how the Devil
to pull myself out
I am not falling down a slope
or into havens where once rabbits ran
I am a black hole
sucking the nearest people within
and crushing
as I too destruct
and I thought
I told myself
I should not have come here
like facing reality self counselling or just readying myself
for the replay
I wish for a perfect humanity
erect and functional
judgeless and undamned...
and the smoke is smoked
and the ducts are dry
I sit
on the edge of foam
wondering how the Devil
to pull myself out
I am not falling down a slope
or into havens where once rabbits ran
I am a black hole
sucking the nearest people within
and crushing
as I too destruct
and I thought
I told myself
I should not have come here
like facing reality self counselling or just readying myself
for the replay
I wish for a perfect humanity
erect and functional
judgeless and undamned...
826 reads
7 Comments
Animals
And then there were billywitches
collecting, betting on the night's agenda
when a young girl
with a strong face
pulls her skirt a few inches south and stumbles
a little further down an alleyway.
This is the sleaze we picture
on a night out
when dogs lurk in all human forms
and the lullabies we were told, the Enid B. books and the passages
of old school wisdom are long since forgotten
in exchange
for passages
of the nether region.
Unhealthy critters
are passed without care.
It's not the crabbing I used to do as a...
collecting, betting on the night's agenda
when a young girl
with a strong face
pulls her skirt a few inches south and stumbles
a little further down an alleyway.
This is the sleaze we picture
on a night out
when dogs lurk in all human forms
and the lullabies we were told, the Enid B. books and the passages
of old school wisdom are long since forgotten
in exchange
for passages
of the nether region.
Unhealthy critters
are passed without care.
It's not the crabbing I used to do as a...
726 reads
2 Comments
A piece of nothing
Going back." The kid stated. He had holes dancing through his black trainers. He had a heart, drowned in liquid gold, turned to stone. He had a head built on life and essence and boredom. She curtsied, a foolish grace lingering on the daisies of a white dress. In the field she saw only with naivety and an unsure shiver in her spine - the first touch of love's ideal.
"Why would you leave?" She stuttered, all green eyes and nibbled lips.
"There are things." Once one had seen the vulgarity of affection he no longer cared for wise words from love-struck. Aged book's last breath of a...
"Why would you leave?" She stuttered, all green eyes and nibbled lips.
"There are things." Once one had seen the vulgarity of affection he no longer cared for wise words from love-struck. Aged book's last breath of a...
942 reads
4 Comments
blue
I took the last pieces I had
and dragged them on a plane
I sat
and smoked and drank
and focused tried to focus
on something other than the craving to
drill the nail in
here I am dreaming
and the hate stirs worse at night
and I still catch myself
crying in corners
where blue washed walls and pitiful eyes are everywhere
- spite boils
I love you
I love you
it can't be that simple
you - you
and I
I never would
I would never hurt anyone
and...
and dragged them on a plane
I sat
and smoked and drank
and focused tried to focus
on something other than the craving to
drill the nail in
here I am dreaming
and the hate stirs worse at night
and I still catch myself
crying in corners
where blue washed walls and pitiful eyes are everywhere
- spite boils
I love you
I love you
it can't be that simple
you - you
and I
I never would
I would never hurt anyone
and...
1028 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)